


voices

by cosmical_soda



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, BAMF Leia Organa, Bespin, Depression, F/M, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Han Solo Needs A Hug, Insecurity, Intrusive Thoughts, Jedi Leia Organa, Jedi Luke Skywalker, Lack of Communication, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Nicknames, POV Han Solo, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Smuggler Han Solo, Suicidal Thoughts, Trust Issues, Violent Thoughts, and hans mental health, baby fever, han is so in love with leia ugh, han let leia love and care for you damnit, han solo has trust issues, han wants to be a dad sue him, hans fucked up by the carbonite, hans scared of himself tbh, he's A+ parenting material, hes whipped for her but the insecurity comes in, how do you tag these fics there're barely any sw tags, leia wants him to trust her, little does he know shes just as whipped for him, luke is done with their miscommunication bs, they talk about parenthood and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmical_soda/pseuds/cosmical_soda
Summary: “First off, only Leia calls me flyboy and scoundrel, squirt. Come up with your own nicknames. Second, yeah, I did. Until she ordered me into that trash chute, nearly got us all killed, and insulted me.” The edges of Han’s lips quirked upwards at the memory, eyes on the princess brandishing her lightsaber on the other side of the room. “I didn’t come back that day for you, you know. I came back for her. Rather, to prove her wrong. I think it was when she said that she didn’t think I cared about anyone or anyone that I realized with a burning resentment that I actually cared what she thought about me. And the rest was destiny.”(Or at least he wants to think its destiny gods he hopes its their destiny he loves her too much so much to ever want to let her go and the idea of her not feeling nearly the same would be enough to decimate him he doesn't know what he'd do without her what would he do if one day she said ‘I don't love you’ Han thinks he’d fall apart from the hurt right then and there but if she didn’t want to be with him he’d never force her he’d never do that to her he’d get encased in carbonite a thousand times before he hurt her like that-)
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	voices

The thought had been lingering in the back of his mind for a long time, and he felt it had been with him for so long that he almost didn't know when the yearning had begun.

Gods- _yearning._ Men like him **(** **smugglers, scoundrels, thieves,** **_scum of the universe_ )** didn't _yearn_ , least of all for things like this. And yet…

He often sat off to the side, observing and cracking jokes or calling out particularly witty quips, while Luke and Leia trained the younglings, if he wasn't busy or didn't have any runs to make on the Falcon.

He went on runs because he was convinced that he missed it, missed the freedom and the thrill and the rush and the small taste of his old life, no matter how much he loved this new one. He was convinced that he wanted it, that he couldn’t give it up, and Leia understood. She made him promise to be safe and let him go. And for the first day or two, he'd be happy. 

And then the homesickness would kick in. It was mostly when he came back from those runs that he intruded on their sessions, when the longing for home and the intensity of his loneliness grew too large in his heart and he was filled with an insatiable longing for the people that made home _home_. Of course he’d always love the Millennium Falcon, because he had found his first true home there. But after Leia and Luke that had changed, because what used to be hours that he could roam its empty halls and feel fulfilled, be satisfied, became unbearable.  
**(Pathetic.)**

Somewhere over the years they’d evolved into long, syrupy stretches of time during which, when he wasn't thinking about the mission at hand, he only could think of what he’d left behind. 

Who he’d left behind.

Leia, in particular. 

**(They don’t think about you like that why do you care so fucking much?)**

This was one of those times.

She was strict with their younglings, almost a disciplinarian. She and Luke often played good cop and bad cop (not in that particular order), but that didn't mean that she was devoid of sensitivity. 

For a while, Han had assumed that she did, in fact, lack the capacity to feel, that Her Worshipfulness was an ice princess cold enough to rival the Hoth system itself.

 **(And** **she probably thought you were a creep, you constantly kept crossing her boundaries, it’s a miracle she ever even stayed in the same room as you, you absolute** **_sleaze_ )**

Time and experience never failed to prove him wrong, over and over again.

He was reminded of this revelation as he watched a youngling, maybe eight years old, burn her hand badly while in the process of learning to construct a lightsaber. 

Han could tell that, even from a distance, it was severe. Leia dropped everything she was doing when she heard the strained cry of pain, and rushed over to the youngling's side. Luke calmly ordered everyone to keep training, but the concern in his voice was clear.

She took their hand in hers and examined it gently, and the youngling gritted her teeth and took in shaky, tearful breaths. 

It rattled Han to the core. Some foreign urge compelled him to do something- anything- to help **(what could you possibly do?)**. He knew that this makeshift school was in the works. Whether or not Leia and Luke had equipped it with the necessary medical supplies beat him, but if they didn’t, then he doubted you could treat what looked like a second-degree burn with the Force. So he ignored Luke calling after him (“Han, _hey_!- Han, where’re you going, I need your help over here!) and ducked into the ‘fresher of the nearby Millennium Falcon, where he found a medipac in the cabinet under the sink.

Bingo.

He returned almost as quickly as he had left, with the kit tucked under his arm.

“Where did you run off to?” Leia demanded, almost immediately, but Han shushed her.

“Steady, sweetheart, I’ve got this,” he mumbled to nobody in particular **(** **Nobody fucking** ** _asked_** **for your help stay in your damn lane you** ** _lowly_** **_flyboy_** **)** as he cracked open the white case. Working quickly, he twisted open a pot of burn salve and slathered it onto the injury. Then, he wrapped her hand in a few layers of bandages. He cut the bandages and secured them, and smiled.

“There we go. All fixed up. No need to cry, kiddo, if anything you’ll have a wicked scar when it heals. Check this out.” He rolled up his sleeve to expose a jagged scar on his upper arm. **(N** **obody asked nobody asked you’re creeping them out again-)**. “Your instructor over there gave me this burn scar during our days fighting against the Empire.”

“I saved your life, you insolent nerf-herder!” Leia said indignantly, “I’ve told you over and over I’m very sorry for the injury that came with it, but now you’re beginning to make me regret having saved your sorry butt for what wasn't the first time and definitely wasn't the last!”

The youngling stifled a giggle as she wiped at her wet eyes and Han decided that voices that were beginning to scream again were a hundred percent worth it.

 **(But _she was right._ ** **Stupid fucking smuggler** ** _,_ ** **couldn’t even have watched your back in combat all those years ago, needed someone to d** ** _o it for you again and again and again and agAI-_ ) **

Han winced. “Okay, but did you _have_ to tackle me down onto the bonfire? Did you?” he shot back, rolling down his sleeve.

Leia’s face was tinged pink. “I wouldn’t have had to tackle you into the bonfire if you were watching out for yourself! You were about to take a blast to the head from those Imperials, there was no other direction to tackle you in, and besides- you were certainly large enough to smother the flames before any real damage was done. Still are.” She looked him up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Are you calling me fat, princess?”

“It’s open to interpretation,” she replied lazily as she helped the child to her feet. “Come, child, we’ve wasted enough time with this… rascal. You can still train in other areas for the time being.”

 **(** _ **r**_ **_as c a l_ )**

“Hey, sweetheart!” Han called after them.

Leia spared a glance over her shoulder. “What, hotshot?”

Han felt the catlike grin stretch on his lips as he snorted. “Not you. Gods, some people are so egotistical.” 

**(Fuck** **he shouldn’t have said that he** **_should not have said that_ ) **

Leia sputtered and he fished around in one of the many pockets of his vest and produced a piece of tangy hard candy. He held it out in his hand to the youngling, trying for a gentle smile.

“Here, sweetheart, a little something to get your blood sugar up. I don’t know much about medicine or whatever, so that’s probably not right, but just go with it, alright?” 

**(He's** **breaking their rules he’s messing up their lessons why did he come here in the fucking first place he’s so pathetic he couldn’t stay away from either of them for a few days without getting clingy and fucking up why can’t he just s top)**

The youngling hesitated, glancing up at Leia first. Leia’s eyes didn’t leave his face as she nodded slowly, face a blank mask. **( _He’d done it again, overstepped boundaries, intruded on their area of expertise and ridiculed Leia in front of her students fuck he couldn’t do any of this right could he he just wanted to do something and help Leia would never want with him what he wanted with her why would she w h_ _y_ ) **

The wrapper rustled as the youngling's tiny hand darted out and snatched it from his palm, and she whispered a small, “Thank you, Mr Organa-Solo.”

“No problem, kiddo. Now go finish the rest of your training and may the Force be with you.”

“You crafty son of a bantha,” Leia muttered under her breath at him before she turned.

**( _F u cku p_ )**

Han watched Leia walk away with the youngling silently, the voices in his head roaring a thousand different death sentences per second, and worry grew in his stomach.

 **(** **She’s going to leave you this was the last straw she’s going to realize what everyone else knew all those fucking years ago that you’re just a thief just a fucking useless moneyloving greedy smuggler she’s going to realize there’s nothing about you to love nothing worth staying for** **_n ot h in g a t a l l_** **-)**

He dropped to his knees to gather up his medipac **(** ** _hide your face, fucking coward, they don’t want to see you anyway-_ )** and heard a voice.

“You were staring after her again.”

“You’d think a guy could stare after his own wife without being judged,” he grumbled. “What’s it to you anyway, squirt? Don’t you have some kiddos to train or something?”

Luke shook his head slowly, but Han could tell it wasn't in response to the question. He extended a hand. Han grasped it and hauled himself to his feet. 

“I never thought I’d see the day. Han Solo, smuggler, flyboy, scoundrel, pirate, a wanted man- head over heels in love. With _Leia_ , no less. Gods, you _hated_ her,” Luke grinned.

 **(But she hated you too, why is she even with you when she hated you so much, you never made things easy for her and her treatment of you was justified because you were so fucking pushy and never left her alone** **_fucking bastard-_ )**

“First off, only Leia calls me flyboy and scoundrel, squirt. Come up with your own nicknames. Second, yeah, I did. Until she ordered me into that trash chute, nearly got us all killed, and insulted me.” The edges of Han’s lips quirked upwards at the memory, eyes on the princess brandishing her lightsaber on the other side of the room. “I didn’t come back that day for you, you know. I came back for her. Rather, to prove her wrong. I think it was when she said that she didn’t think I cared about anyone or anyone that I realized with a burning resentment that I actually _cared_ what she thought about me. And the rest was destiny.”

 **(Or at** **least he wants to think its destiny gods he hopes its their destiny he loves her too much so much to ever want to let her go and the idea of her not feeling nearly the same would be enough to decimate him he doesn't know what he'd do without her what would he do if one day she said ‘I don't love you’ Han thinks he’d fall apart from the hurt right then and there but if she didn’t want to be with him he’d never force her he’d never do that to her he’d get encased in carbonite a thousand times before he hurt her like that-)**

“So you’re telling me that you cared that she thought you were selfish and greedy, and that's why you came back? Not for me or for the mission? Wow.” Luke crossed his arms and huffed. 

**(He cared for Luke too that’s not what he meant he went back that day for Leia but he stayed for Luke because Leia had hated him at first but Luke was family right from the start too oh _n o-_ )**

Han struggled to keep a smile on his face. “What can I say? I can never pass up a chance to prove her wrong.” He shrugged, at war with himself and still unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. 

**(You** **can’t take an y thi ng seriously why do they tolerate you Luke thinks you don’t care about him nearly as much as you care about Leia and here you are not giving a shit you don’t deserve them and you know it why do they even keep you around?)**

“Oh, don’t I know it!” Luke rolled his eyes. “You two bicker like an old married couple!”

“I hope we make it there together. Y’know, before one of us loses it and murders the other in cold blood.”

“I thought that was going to be heartfelt,” Luke admitted. **(** **But he wants to grow old with her he wants it more than anything why the fuck couldn’t he just say that much and leave it there?)** “You’ve been married for three years now. I think you’ve made it this far, it’ll be fine. You guys _are_ happy together, right?”

“Happier than I’ve been in a long time, Skywalker. Course, I can’t speak for her, **(** **oh but you are, you filthy hypocrite)** but I think she feels the same way. Still, there’s something missing in our relationship…”

 **(Like she’d ever want that with you you’re lucky you have this much** **_ab om in at ion_** **)**

“Like?”

“Why d’you think I’m mentioning this to you if I knew?” Han huffed. Luke chuckled sheepishly.

“She’s mentioned something along those lines too. I’m sure you’ll manage to figure it out, ‘cause I have no idea what you two idiots are too… stubborn? Dense? Whatever. Nothing you can’t figure it out with some communication.”

It was bluff and Luke had called him on it. Of course Han knew what it was. He was just waiting to see if Luke would or could give him some insight. **(Tell me you know, tell me she wants it too, tell me she’s told you,** **_t el l m e-_** **)** He let out a shaky breath and let his eyes wander back to where Leia was now correcting a youngling on their stance.

“She’s sure good with the kids, isn’t she?” Luke followed his gaze.

Han agreed quietly.

**(She’s good at everything, but she’d be the best at this…)**

“She’s often the ‘bad cop’ in this whole thing and yet they seem to like her _more_! Like, they're supposed to like me because _I'm_ the nice one!"

"I don't blame them," Han smiled. Luke groaned.

"Han, I'm very happy that you're in love with my sister and everything, but can we have an actual conversation without you dragging Leia into it?"

 **(You know he’s right you’re clingy you’re desperate you don’t see her acting like this** **_ge t it to get h er_** **-)**

Han shrugged. "I used to tell Chewie stuff like that all the time. You'll understand someday."

 **(Who are you to go spewing bantha shit like that he thinks you’re a** **_joke-_** **)**

Luke wrinkled his nose but before he could say anything else, Leia called for him to stop standing around and get back to teaching.

 **( _You're_** **_a di s tr ac tio n_ )**

Luke glanced at him apologetically before half-jogging to where Leia was, and Han let him go.

After a few minutes of standing idly by, eyes trained on Leia and whatever youngling she might have been with, he made his way out of their makeshift school and into the Millennium Falcon, **(good, nobody wanted you there anyway)** where he shed his day clothing in favour of the sleepwear he'd bought only for the fact that it was oversized and comfortable and Leia had developed a habit of wearing his clothing more than her own when they were together.

He pulled the shirt over his head and wondered somewhere in the back of his head if the fit had gotten tighter since the last time he wore it. He frowned as he looked down at his stomach, then stood sideways facing the mirror to better see the profile of his torso.

His shuffling footsteps reverberated through the empty room, bouncing off the walls and carrying faintly into the hallways. It calmed him a little. Han had always hated silence. Silence meant loneliness and even before Luke and Leia he'd at least had Chewie, so he was never alone. 

Even his mind was never truly silent, was always whispering something or the other to him behind every conversation, in the middle of the night, on runs. Sooner or later he thought he'd go crazy from it all. 

He closed his eyes and thought of laughter echoing throughout the halls of the Millennium Falcon in the drowsy hours of the afternoon and smoothing hair back from faces and kissing soft cheeks goodnight, of celebrating many, many more birthdays yearly, feet racing up the gangway into open, waiting arms and being woken up in the unsavory hours of the morning by loud voices and shrieking, beautiful giggles.

Leia’s eyes. Deep, fierce brown eyes that looked like the silky chocolates he’d seen rich children gobble when he was younger, maybe the same chocolate that he didn’t even bother haggling for anymore because they were one of Leia’s favorites and it filled him with more joy to see her indulge in them than it did to get them for a bargain. He’d discovered how much he hated that chocolate (it smelled and tasted too rich, it made him want to retch) but he’d brought it into his ship too many times to count because it made Leia happy, and Han could deal with excessively rich chocolate if it meant seeing a smile on Leia’s face.

**(You talk about chocolate like you’re taking torture for her, what's _wrong with you_?)**

He opened his eyes suddenly, as if his fantasies would materialize from thin air and come to life in front of him. Instead he saw no passionate brown eyes, heard no laughter ringing in the halls **(ringing in his ears)** , no hair to smooth back and no soft cheeks to kiss. He simply stood staring at the bed that him and Leia shared.

His side of the sheets were wrinkled and mussed from the night. He ran a hand over the sheets on her side.

They were cool to the touch. 

He pulled a few blankets and his pillow off the bed and onto the floor, where he constructed a makeshift bed for himself. Somehow it felt invasive to sleep there alone, just as Leia had all those nights. Somehow it felt wrong.

Han realized he couldn't have brought himself to lie in that bed at that moment if his life depended on it **(not that that statement has any weight, would you really have had a problem with it if Vader had just done away with you on Bespin all those years ago?)** , maybe because the atmosphere was thick with something he couldn’t recognize, a week and a half’s worth of half a couple’s activities hanging in the air, in suspension, still and glitchy and Han was filled suddenly with a deep, incessant throbbing in his heart. An undertone of shame. 

Had she lain awake at night, wondered where he was and if he was alive or coming back? Had she resisted it for hours and finally given in, nestled herself into his side of the bed, hugged his pillows, breathed in his smell on the sheets- missing him, _missing him_ , wishing he were there?

 **(** ** _Wishful thinking_** **, your imagination is running wild again)**

He shook those thoughts out of his head and settled himself into what was more a bundle of fabric on the ground than anything. Maybe Leia was right, he thought vaguely as he drifted into sleep. Maybe he was getting fat.

* * *

"Hey. Scoundrel. Hotshot. Flyboy. _Han_ ," an angelic voice whispered, breaking through his thin, gauzy haze of sleep. 

A gentle hand brushed over his cheekbone and Han felt himself leaning into its touch.

"We have a bed for a reason, you know. Your back is going to hurt. Get up, I ordered dinner from that place you like."

Han's eyes flew open. He was supposed to make dinner that night.

**(Idiotdumbassirresponsible _fuckinglazy_ -)**

He shot upright, a blend of curses and apologies stumbling off his tongue. Leia ran a hand through his hair. 

"Calm down, you were exhausted, if the way you slept was anything to go by. Tough run?"

 **(Couldn't** **sleep, barely ate, stayed in the cockpit day in and day out, did he look as touchstarved as he felt?)**

"About as tough as any other," he said passively.

 **(Liar**. **Liarliar** ** _liar_ )**

Leia intertwined their fingers and pulled him upright. As soon as he was steady on his feet she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close. 

"I missed you," she mumbled against his chest. "Chewie can't cook to save his life, but to be fair, neither can I. And the bed is cold without you. I slept on your side most of those days… gods, I hate it when you leave. For the life of me I’ll never understand why you go, but you haven’t failed to come back yet, so you must be doing whatever it is you do on those runs right.”

Han's mind short circuited and for some ridiculous reason he chose to blurt out, "I am getting fatter."

He felt Leia's nose wrinkle. 

"What?"

Han opened his mouth but no words came out. He closed it and opened it again as if that would propel the sentences from his throat. 

**(** ** _Do you ever think before you speak,_** **_you jackass?_ )**

She rolled her eyes. “Miraculously, you've managed to stay as fit as ever in the three years we've been married. Though I must admit, I’ll be truly impressed if you still look like this in thirty years."

“Leia, I thought it was obvious that I was just kidding too,” he mimicked, and she smiled at him as though she didn’t quite believe him.

“Where’s Chewie?”

“He turned in for an early night.” He lifted his arms over his head and stretched the stiffness out of his bones. Leia grimaced when his back cracked. 

“Come on, flyboy, we’ll save some for him if he wants a midnight snack.”

He extended his arm, and the hurt expanded in his chest **(because it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it? It’s only a matter of time before a prince from some far away planet offers his hand and she sees what she doesn’t have and makes a decision and oh, you will** ** _bleed_** **when that happens, Solo, nothing good ever lasts for you** ~~ ** _Im pe r ial sc um_**~~ ** _you hide so much from her_** ~~ ** _co wa rd_**~~ **you will hurt and hurt and** ** _hurt_** **the blood in your body will boil and you will atone for your sins, for being so foolish** ~~**_why would she e ve r wa nt y o u_**~~ **)**

The voices in his head were screaming at him and the crack that had been there for longer than he could remember was wedging itself further inside him and he could feel himself splitting into thousands of pieces and scattering to every corner of the universe **(** ** _but Leia is here and Leia can't know_** **)** so he smiled **(** ~~ **and and a n d na dn and and what his brain wasn’t working it hur t s alr ead y please make it s to p**~~ **)** and he choked out something about how he loved her.

Oh, he loved her. And Han Solo had never been a sentimental man but it was the one thing in his life that was constant, was true to him, the one thing that would never leave him even if she herself did. He thought all those voices might drown out his own by tonight and the idea scared him. 

A permanent carbonite. And if they did, then Leia wouldn’t be able to save him, nobody would. Gods, the carbonite had fucked him up so badly. He’d never been the same after that.

**(“Who are you?” “Someone who loves you.”)**

Then again, neither had she.

* * *

Leia was curled into his side on their couch. Takeaway boxes were scattered on the coffee table. They’d hologrammed some movie that Leia had insisted he would love, but it blared so damn loudly and Han’s skull was _throbbing_ , he couldn’t focus even if he wanted to.

He wouldn’t tell her to turn it off for the life of him, though, she seemed to derive such pleasure from something like this. Something as small as lounging on a couch and munching on takeaway in near-silence.

The carbonite had been silent. It’d blocked out everything and Han had felt dead in every way except for the fact that he’d been painfully aware of his heart beating. There was the shaking presence of his life and nobody else’s. 

“Han.” Leia’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You’ve barely touched your food. I thought you loved this takeaway place.”

Han glanced down at the box in his lap and shoved some food in his mouth.

“No, no, I do- I’m eating, see?”

“Now you are. But for the past ten minutes?” 

Han stayed silent.

 **(She’d be** **_di s gu ste d_ ** **if she knew)**

“Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Han couldn’t keep the defensiveness out of his voice and mentally kicked himself. 

“Well for one-” She put a hand on his forehead and smoothed back his hair with the other. “You’re in a cold sweat. You’re shaking. You’ve only just started eating and we’ve been here for a half hour. I’m not going to sit here and play whatever game this is, Han Solo. I’m asking you what’s wrong and I expect an answer, just like you do every time I wake up from some bad dream in the middle of the night. Being in a relationship doesn't mean that you supply me with all the support I could ever need and then some but brush then it off when it's your turn."

Han swallowed the lump in his throat and set down his takeaway box. He got up from the sofa and didn't meet Leia's eyes.

"I'm going to make caf."

"Oh, no you don't." Leia was on her feet in a second, following him out of the room.

"But I haven't had a decent cup in a week and a half, sweetheart," he tried deflecting, but Leia was having none of it. 

"You know what I mean!" Leia's voice suddenly turned to a scream. " _Stop_ fucking running away from me!"

"I just want a damn cup of caf!" he shouted back, slamming up the caf pot down on the countertop to enunciate his point. It didn't miss him how she flinched away from the noise.

**(Oh look. You've gone and made her scared of you now. This is how abusers are created. You really had any doubts she’d be better off without you?)**

"You and I both know that that's not the whole truth!" Leia retaliated. "Something's _bothering_ you, Han, and you're not telling me. I can feel that you're in pain but for the life of me I don't know what in the nine circles of hell it could be that's causing it!"

Han filled the pot with water and tried to ignore the spike in his blood pressure. 

"Oh, so you're ignoring me now?"

For the first time since their days fighting the Empire, Han felt as if he might cry. The telltale signs- tightening in his throat, the way his eyes stung… he hadn't cried since he was a child. If you cried on the streets it made you look weak. It made you a target. 

He would _not_ stand here and start blubbering. 

"You know what? Fuck you, Solo. Fuck. You. You’re a _coward._ All I'm asking is that you be as vulnerable with me as I am with you, only for the fact that I want to help you. You don't think it kills me to see you like this, especially after you got back from a run where you could have been getting shot at or died or- or-" She stamped her foot. 

Once. Twice. 

"Drink your fucking caf. I'm going to Luke's. You can tell Chewie why I'm not here in the morning."

Han stayed leaning over the countertop, both hands tightly fisted as he stared down at the shiny surface, willing himself to keep his jaw set and his mouth shut.

 **(People like you shouldn't be allowed to be** ** _a li ve_** **this is what happens when you get emotional you've done it now if you weren't the scum of the fucking universe before you definitely are now you've gone and fucked up the only good thing you've had in** ** _ye a rs_** **how does it feel to have nothing to be alone again you've gotten too used to having good in your life you need a taste of what it's like to suffer again to ground you again she's finally realized there's nothing worth staying for just like you always knew Vader should have just killed you in Cloud City you should have stayed encased in** ** _carbonite you don't des erve to b e ali_** **_ve_** **you worthless fucking**

 **_flyboyscoundrelthiefsmugglerpiratehotshotrascalnerfherder_** **Han** ** _fucking_** **Solo** **_because that’s the worst thing you could possibly be-_** **)**

Leia made a strangled noise.

" _Oh_ , _Han_."

" _What_ ," he snapped back hoarsely.

 **(S to p fucking treating her like shit you claim to be in love with her so** ** _s_** **_to_** **.** ** _P_ )**

He turned and Leia stood there **(so beautiful, so** **_fucking be a ut i f ul you don’t deserve her_** **)** looking more distressed than he'd possibly ever seen her. She looked on the verge of tears. She repeated his name, almost in a plea, and Han just stared dumbly. The smell of burning caf wafted through the air. 

**(Can't even make a cup of caf without fucking up who'd ever think you were a fucking Rebel war hero way back when it’s a miracle you didn’t get them all killed** **_Be s pi n_ ** **do you remem ber** **_B esp in_** **?)**

" _Stop that_!" she shouted, her tiny frame trembling, voice somewhere between a beg and a command. "Stop- _stop thinking that_ … _gods_ , Han-"

Indescribable terror filled him at that moment, coiling like a snake in his gut and threatening to choke him from the inside.

 **(Good job, fuckhead. She knows and she’s** **_di s gu ste d_** **)**

“No!” she said out loud and Han felt his body tense.

"What did you just do?" Han turned around to face her as he forced the words out around the lump in his throat. "Your Jedi- don't tell me you-"

Leia averted her gaze and that told Han all he needed to know.

“You don’t have a connection to the Force like Luke and I do. But this… whatever this is- it’s so intense, it’s rolling off you in waves… and I can feel it…” She breathed heavily, but Han heard the resilience, the focus in her voice. How strained it was, as if she-

 **(** ** _Get out of my head, Leia._** **)** he thought suddenly, coldly.

He saw her square her jaw and he repeated it out loud.

“Then _talk_ to me,” she spat back. “I didn’t mean to, but-”

“Get out of my head!” He pressed the heels of his hands into his temples and shook his head vigorously as if he could keep her out of his mind through sheer force of will.

The voices, the _voices-_

She complied. He didn’t know how in hells he could feel it but he did. He collapsed back against the counter. The acrid smell of burnt caf curled through the air and he coughed on it. One of his hands was scrambling for purchase along the edges of the counter and the other for the stove, to turn off the heat.

Not the smartest decision, he thought **(when have you ever made one of those?)** as his flailing hand found the caf pot and it went flying, most of the scorching liquid landing on his hand.

He swore loudly, shutting his eyes as tight as he could, and Leia grunted in pain. He cracked open an eye to see her small form splattered with caf.

**(Good job, asshole)**

He reached for the tap and ran his hand under the stream of water numbly. He heard retreating footsteps and exhaled deeply, shuddering. 

Han needed to leave. He needed to leave, he had to go, he had to get out-

A hand rested on his shoulder and pulled him back around. Wordlessly, Leia picked up his hand in both of hers and examined it. She put a medipac on the counter and popped it open, working in what Han thought would be silence.

She gingerly applied burn salve and wrapped his hand in bandages. 

“A second degree burn. I always tell you to be careful in the kitchen, but to your credit you usually are.” She cut the bandages but didn’t let go of his hand.

Han ignored that.

“How much did you see?” he asked gruffly, scared of what the answer would be.

“I saw enough.”

**(Did she see-)**

“I’m sorry.”

“What in hells for?” Leia’s voice was sharp and edged with indignance.

“For- for whatever _that_ was.”

“How long?”

“What do you mean, ‘how long’?”

“How long have you been thinking like that,” she said angrily, “and who the fuck ever told you any of that was true?”

“I… I-”

“I don’t want to beg you to tell me. I just want to help you. I want the truth.” She let go of his hand suddenly and placed them instead on either side of his face. “If you need to hear it then here it is- _I love you, Han_. So… please… I want to be here for you. But I can only do that if you let me.”

“Since Bespin,” he said quietly. “I was only ever told that at the Academy... and after that it became like truth. I guess I convinced myself that it was.” Han covered his face in his working hand at seeing Leia's expression, tender and gentle and yet still something vicious blazing behind it. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”

 **(You say** **_this_ ** **like you don’t fall short in thousands of other areas too)**

Leia removed his hand from his face and kissed him, searing and sweet and slow.

“Neither was I, in the beginning.” A beat, and then: “You deserve to be loved without having to hide the parts of yourself that you think are unlovable.”

And for one of the first times in his life, Han told the voices in his head to shove it up their collective ass and meant it.

* * *

She’d led him back to the couch and gods, Han had never felt more like a five year old in his life. Because Leia was his _wife_ , not his babysitter. This woman had led a Rebellion, had nearly given her life for its cause, watched her planet be destroyed, was tortured by Vader for information and nearly executed. He was in awe of her every moment they spent together and he didn’t want her to bring herself down to coddle him.

He told her so and she scoffed.

“Nothing I do for you would never bring me down.”

Han didn’t believe her, and it must have shown on his face because she dragged him down onto the couch cushions again and made them comfortable. 

“Alright, flyboy. Don’t believe me? I’ll speak your language.” 

_Corellian_? he thought bizarrely.

“ _I_ -” She placed a hand on her chest as if to enunciate the word- “am indebted to _you_ -” She took her hand off her chest and placed it on Han’s own- “for all the nights of sleep and, doubtless, sanity you lost dealing with me after Vader’s death, and for the countless times you’ve saved my life in battle. And right now I am _re-pay-ing_ that debt. Got it?”

Han smiled **(was it real?)**. “This isn’t monetary debt. Not my area of expertise.”

“Debt is debt,” she said simply, pulling his head down in her lap and stroking his hair. She had changed from her caf splattered clothes into one of his old comfy outfits, and Han was starstruck by her beauty, how gorgeous she was even without trying.

They stayed like that for a few moments and Han struggled in vain to silence his thoughts, barking and stubborn as they were.

**(She thinks I deserve this. She thinks I’m worth something. She knows and she accepts it- loves it, even. And she… she loves me. So shut the fuck up, because as far as I know she’s not going anywhere. Capiche?)**

And the voices in his head howled their disagreement, they begged to differ and made sure Han was aware of that. However, he was also aware that he’d been suppressing what Leia had identified as anxiety, suicidal/intrusive thoughts, self-hatred, depression on some end of the spectrum, and PTSD for years. 

All untreated.

Mental health was never a priority for him growing up. Survival was. He assumed that everyone went through phases of extreme self-hate and wanting to kill themself, that it was a universal experience. 

Han had always hardened himself to the rest of the world, to everyone he knew, put up walls- as cheesy as it sounded- hidden the most despicable parts of himself from everyone lest they find out the “truth”- that he wasn't what he appeared to be on the outside. That he was a fake. That he’d tricked everyone into thinking he was one thing when in fact he was something completely different. 

Backwards logic compelled him to bury those parts of himself deeper still, make them impossible to find. No one should know. 

That was not to say that if it were Leia or Luke or anyone else he cared for with a passion that went through any of those things that he would disregard it. In the past few years he’d grown to care for so few people so deeply, more than he could ever recall caring for himself. 

Sure, he wanted to survive. But only because when you lived a smuggler’s life, survival and living were not the same thing. When you lived a smuggler’s life, the alternative to survival was always something much, much graver than death.

 **(** ~~ ** _Bespin. Jabba the Hutt’s palace._**~~ **)**

But he didn’t have to worry about that. There was no price on his head anymore, and he was living the ideal domestic life with the woman he loved- who loved him back. The only thing that could be missing was… 

“What’s on your mind?” Leia asked, gazing down into his eyes. “You’re wearing your thinking face. Your eyebrows furrow together and you get those grooves in your forehead. It’s cute, but worrisome. I never know what makes you wonder so fiercely.” She traced her finger along said grooves and Han sighed and shifted, doing his best to relax.

Leia’s fingers worked themselves into his scalp and a groan tumbled from his lips.

“You’d think I was insane.”

“Try me.”

Han took a deep breath. _Just spit it out_.

~~Laughter echoing throughout the halls of the Millennium Falcon in the drowsy hours of the afternoon and smoothing hair back from faces and kissing soft cheeks goodnight, celebrating many, many more birthdays yearly and feet racing up the gangway and being woken up in the unsavory hours of the morning by loud voices and shrieking, beautiful giggles.~~

“I want to have a baby,” he said all in a rush. “Not now, not this very moment, not even in a few days or a few weeks or a few months. But I want to. Someday. Soon.”

Leia’s fingers froze in his hair, and Han instantly wished he could grab the words back out of the air and hold them close to him, never let anyone hear them again. 

**(Gods, that was a stupid decision-)**

To his surprise, Leia laughed. 

“I didn’t think this was coming,” she said quietly. “But at least I know what it meant when I saw you watching the children.”

“I’m sorry,” he fumbled. “Just forget I-”

“Oh, you scoundrel, would you shut it for a second?” Leia smirked, voice dripping with what Han identified as affection. Relief enveloped him. “I thought I was going crazy. I thought I was the only one. Luke told me that if I weren’t so dense I’d have figured it out by now. Told me to ‘communicate.’”

“He told me the same thing!” Han said before he could stop himself. “And seconds after he said… he mentioned how good you were with the younglings…”

They stared at each other in stunned silence for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“Gods, that dumbass… he really said ‘I’m not doing your communication for you _this_ time,’ didn’t he?” Leia managed between gales of laughter.

Han agreed, wheezing just as hard as she was.

And Leia’s eyes, he thought loosely. Lit up with laughter, tears threatening to spring forth from the corners, beautiful and intense and profound and _Leia._

“What stopped you from saying something?” Han caught her hand and held it to his face. 

“You’ve been going on so many runs lately. I thought you missed your old life. You seemed to be chasing the freedom you used to have. It’s only been a few years since Vader died and you threw yourself into the Rebel cause after a bit of convincing and gave up everything else. You only started going on runs this past year and a half. I wanted you to have that for a while until I dropped a bomb like this,” she explained, her thumb grazing over the vertical scar on his chin. “What about you?”

“I’m afraid my reason is a little less noble,” he snorted. Her hand moved to his cheek, rubbing against the patchy stubble that was beginning to grow there. “I just assumed… princesses don’t have babies with men like me, alright? You know- scoundrels, pirates…”

“Princesses also aren’t supposed to marry ‘men like you,’” Leia challenged, something righteous blazing in her eyes, “but here I am.” 

“Here you are,” Han repeated quietly. Her palm left his cheek and found his hand. He slipped his fingers through hers wordlessly.

“Not now,” she said when she had calmed down enough to speak properly again. “But soon. I want to deal with us right now. And you. Before we deal with anyone else.”

“I’m tired of being like this, sweetheart,” he murmured, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“I know,” she mumbled back. “And I understand. But we’ll get through this together, just like we always have. And I’ll be here for you, just like you’ve always been here for me.” She paused, then asked, “Han, when I call you ‘scoundrel’ or ‘flyboy’ or ‘nerfherder’ I don’t mean… I never meant it like that. Maybe in the beginning, but that was the very beginning. You know, jumping into trash chutes and almost dying beginnings? I’m sorry if I ever made you think-”

“No, princess, it wasn't you. That was me. I love those nicknames, I really do. But they’re…” Han hesitated.

“You can be open with me,” Leia reminded him. “Not now, if you’re not ready, but you can be.”

“They’re things I’ve been called all my life. And the people who called me those things didn’t exactly mean it the way you did.”

Leia took in a sharp breath.

“Honey, do you by chance remember their names?”

“Sweetheart, _no_.”

“I just want to talk,” she insisted. “Numbers? Freighter or starship licenses? Addresses? Native planets?”

“You’re not killing everyone who ever did me wrong,” he chuckled lowly, but it made him happy to know that she cared that much. Regardless of what the voices in his head said, she _cared_.

“But I _want_ to. Gods, I wish I could. And maybe that’s the Skywalker in me, but… I wish you hadn’t had to experience any of that. I wish I could have stopped it.”

“And I wish I could have for you. But we can’t do that. Still, I appreciate the sentiment, however murderous it may be.”

Leia harrumphed. “Shut it, flyboy.”

“Make me, sweetheart,” he bit back with a wolfish grin.

"Rogue! Rascal!” She shoved his head and a smile played on her lips even as she so evidently struggled to find the right word. After a moment of struggling, she burst out with, "You _scoundrel_!”

But she leaned down anyway. And shut him up she did.

When they broke away, Leia looked at him like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered, and breathed out, “ _My_ scoundrel. My scruffy looking nerf-herder of a husband.”

"Hey!" Han protested, not angry in the slightest. "Who's scruffy looking?"

"You are." Leia's fingers went from smoothing his hair back to rumpling it in his eyes. Han yelped and pulled his head out of her lap. She let her head fall back on his shoulder and he pulled a soft throw over their laps. She took his hand and raised it to her face, letting her lips ghost over his knuckles. "But fortunately for you, you're also handsome."

"I love you." The words were pulled from him through his newfound blanket of security.

"I know," Leia answered, and Han groaned.

"I said it _once_! Are you ever going to let it go?"

"Nope." A pause, and then: "I love you too."

And Han felt the crack in him begin to heal.

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's watching star wars for the first time with their family over quarantine & immediately became obsessed with hanleia? anyways Let Han Solo Be Tender & Vulnerable squad who else is with me  
> i hope this isnt ooc or anything but i just!! in so many fanfics han is more rough and hard spoken & leia is badass & doesnt take anyones shit which i love but i wanted them to be more tender & softer & more understanding with each other in private just because they deserve a nice domestic life & they love each other & its not all sharp words and sarcastic retorts all the time yk?


End file.
